Arayaturner - Bride Of Depravity

sad girl, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

content: in the beginning stages of their relationship, amelia finds herself questioning john and the nature of their relationship.

song reference: sad girl by lana del rey

an: idk this song does something to me. should I make a tag list?

John Egan was an enigma. A puzzle that was impossible to solve. A language she couldn’t translate. A concept she couldn’t grasp. It angered her. It sent her into emotional overload and overwhelmed her mind. She couldn’t make sense of him and it pained her. 

She found herself in her head, swimming through the sea of intrusive thoughts that invaded her mind. He wasn’t serious about her. He wasn’t capable of loving her. That was evident by the way his eyes followed the silhouette of a pretty blonde at the pub while she washed dishes and served drinks to the armymen. He didn’t know she noticed. Why would he? To him, she was nothing but a girl he’d gone on a few dates with. They weren’t committed; he owed her no loyalty. 

Her attempts at keeping her facial expressions at bay were a failure. When she rose her head, she caught the sympathetic eyes of the emphatic Gale Cleven. The smile on her face quivered as she turned her back and continued with her task. 

And his hesitancy, oh God, his hesitancy to decline a dance from a woman broke her even further. Sure, she should have been glad that he declined the brunette’s advances regardless, but the fact that he took the time to think. To ponder. To debate, made her sick to her stomach. 

She wept like a child that night. She accepted his peck on the cheek at the end of the evening, “You alright, doll?” His voice sent a chill down her spine. It stayed with her until she went home, then wept like a child. 

She was asked about him by her best friend. If only she could describe all that he was, and all that he wasn’t. He was a complex case that needed to be studied. Dissected and picked apart like an experiment. She nodded once and said, “He is a beautiful human, truly. Bold and wild like a fire. He walks in it with pride and warms everyone he comes in contact with.”

Her friend sensed the sadness laced in her words. With a small voice, she asked in return, “It sounds like you aren’t too happy about that. What’s that about?”

With a sad smile pulled at her lips. Amelia shrugged and dropped her hands into her lap defeatedly. Quietly she admitted, "I don't know if he can love me the way I love him. I think...my worst fear is that he'll light me on fire and leave me to burn in the flames...."

---

likes are nice, but please share feedback, friends!

Okay but Billy with an innocent reader>>>>>>>> LIKE HES SO PROTECTIVE OML

billy + innocent!reader

stop i love this. this should be an au hell i may just write more for it

tw— for use of a gun, toothrotting fluff

request

"go ahead, honey. pull the trigger." billy's voice is sweet against your ear.

your face morphs into a coy apprehension, "and you're sure this won't send me flying on my rear?"

he chuckles, straightening your arms a bit, "m'right here, i won't let that happen."

your eyes focus in on the three rusty cans in the distance, set atop a dry rotting log. you know there's no way you're going to hit them all. you'd be lucky to hit one.

but billy is adamant in both that you need to learn how to shoot, and that you’ll be a ‘natural’. his driving objective, however, being that since he can't be with you from sun up to sun down, he'll have to settle with teaching you how to fend for yourself.

it's not unlike him to behave this way. in the months you've known the gunslinger, you've come to find that his urge to protect you is enormous.

his protection isn't reserved just against the infamous wild men of the west, but rather, anything and anyone. if it could possibly do you harm, physically or mentally, he's there to guard and defend.

like a knight out of the princess tales your mother used to tell you.

you let out a harsh breath before your finger begins to press into the trigger. too soft at first, the metal remains in its' spot, you muster up all your courage and pull the trigger. your eyes are screwed shut as the bullet whistles away, and you quickly turn into billy.

his arms ensnare you, wrapping you tight, "what're you hidin' for? you hit it dead center, sweetheart!"

you lift your head, staring unabashedly into his blue eyes, "did i really?"

he hums, using his dominant hand to steer your gaze away from him and toward the target. sure enough, the can on the left side has a small hole right in its middle.

billy chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back, "told you, my girl's a natural."

you can't help but grin, the tension releasing from your shoulders, "or i've got a good teacher." you tease.

he gives you a squeeze before letting go, gesturing toward the cans, "c'mon, let's see if you can do it again."

emboldened by your first success, you square your shoulders and take aim. this time, you focus a bit more, remembering the sensation of the recoil and trying to replicate it. the shot rings out, and you open your eyes to find another can hit.

billy lightly claps you on the back, "see? just like that, sweetheart."

as you reload, you can't help but appreciate the way the afternoon sun plays on his weathered hat, casting thin rays upon his lips, "m’not as hopeless as i thought."

he grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "do i e’ver lie to you?”

you ignore his sly remark, focusing back in on your targets. with newfound confidence, you continue to practice, the rhythmic sound of gunshots filling the air. as the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow over the landscape.

the sounds of gunfire continue, each shot feeling more controlled and confident than the last. with every successful hit, billy's pride in your progress shines through his loving stare. he stands by your side, offering guidance and encouragement, a quiet guardian in the backdrop of your learning.

as the sun dips even lower, casting a dim hue over the landscape, you catch a glimpse of billy watching you with a softness in his eyes. he often got this way, completely lost in you. especially when you're doing things his way— not in the way you'd normally feel inclined. you're rather tame and harmless in comparison to billy, the entire west, really.

growing up away from the fast-growing townships and travelers, when you met billy he completely flipped your world upside down. you gave him all your firsts, shooting his pistol only adds to the expansive list of firsts you've given him.

you go to take aim again, eyes closing as you shoot, still too frightened to keep them open— your bullet flies past your targets, missing entirely. you've grown used to the sound of a hit and when you open your eyes to find the miss, you groan.

billy's safeguarding nature becomes even more apparent as you meet his winsome eyes, his gaze lingers on you, subtle worry etched on his features.

he knows you're inexperienced, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world he's accustomed to. he knows it isn't, but if this were a shootout, that big of a miss would have cost you your life.

the mere thought of you in that situation is something he's not willing to entertain.

"you're doing mighty fine, sweetheart," he reassures, a tenderness in his voice that speaks volumes, "but remember, there's more to this than cans and targets. gotta keep those pretty eyes of yours open, alright?"

you nod, appreciating his concern and the earnest care he extends. it dawns on you that learning to shoot isn't just a practical skill— it's a testament to the depth of billy's affection. he's arming you with more than just a handgun— he's giving you a piece of his own resilience and determination.

as the sun sets, casting long shadows across the landscape, you take a moment to stand side by side with billy, appreciating the warmth of his presence. the sky paints hues of orange and pink, a picturesque backdrop to the bond that's been forged between you.

"thanks, billy," you say, sincerity lacing your words. "for teaching me, for being patient."

he smiles, a softness in his expression that contrasts with the rugged exterior, "my pleasure, sweetheart. always want you to be able to take care of yourself."

with the last rays of sunlight fading, you holster the gun, feeling a newfound sense of empowerment. billy wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back towards the homestead. as you walk together, the echoes of gunshots in the ears serve as a reminder that you're not just learning to shoot— you're learning to navigate billy's world, and with his protection, you're sure you'll do just fine.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

Soo....ummm

Let's talk abut Boys in the Boat and Masters of the Air because why are the release dates so far away. Someone tell me why hasn't BITB done any press or whtv

— is it a crime? | III.

pairing: austin butler inspired male oc x kat graham inspired fem oc (calisto and alcacia) summary: it’s been some time since calisto and alcacia have spoken. even with the distance between them and the ongoing heartache she felt at the hands of the man she loved, she can’t seem to let him go. warnings: toxic relationship. emotional manipulation. nsfw themes (no smut though). alcohol consumption.language. potential tag list (these people tend to interact the most. let me know if you want to be added/removed): @neeville @dulcewrites @crash-and-cure @cvpidspearl l @blackwriter48 @wonderprince @venus2eros @adoreyouusugar @sunshinetoday1 @cosmic-parker @wacoshuffle @kaitaesupremacy

note: long time so see :)

Calisto’s guilt ate at him like an animal after its prey. He wasn’t stupid. She used every tactic in the Book of Avoidance to delay their meeting and interactions. He practically wrote the novel himself. 

He hardly knew why he was so offended when she swerved past him once she walked through the large double doors of his luxury home. Her green eyes stayed ahead of her and the only thing he caught was the sway of her hips and a whiff of her strong perfume. It wasn’t soft and gentle like he was used to. It exuded dominance and authority. 

She sat across from him, eyes focused on the people adjacent to her, the steak ahead of her, and the wine accompanying her. He found it difficult to keep his eyes off her blood-painted lips. She was never a red lipstick person; he wondered whatchanged. How much she had changed. 

Her voice was raspier than he recognized. She spoke slower and with more intention, like she learned a thing or two. He was mesmerized. He was for her, what she was for him just months prior. However, he was more than aware of how things changed when she cursed him in the bathroom after he followed her. 

The version of himself that neglected and abused her emotions would have been confused as to why his smoldering eyes didn’t cause her knees to buckle in adoration, but for her lips to twist in disgust. After months of reflection, he realized that the pain he caused was a simple effect of his own selfishness and pride. Not only had he lost the woman who’d never loved him to begin with, but he lost the one whom he’d known since childhood and loved him into adulthood. He had never known anyone to be that foolish, save for himself. Such a shame. 

He found himself staring at her phone number off and on for hours. The screen would lock and he’d scramble to come face to face with her name and number again. It taunted him. It knew he didn’t have the guts to call or text. How could he? He saw it in her eyes--she thought of him as the scum of the earth. 

And to some extent, she was right. 

My inner freak has come out hehehehehe 😏😏

❥𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝒈𝒇 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝒘/ 𝑱𝒐𝒆 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒛 💕 thanks to this edit:

@missusnora @eleanorbaybars

❣︎𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: （𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑠）𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔/𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐽𝑜𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝐽𝑜𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘, 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝐷𝑂𝑊𝑁 𝐵𝐴𝐷 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚, ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛，𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘, 𝑚𝑎𝑛ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠✬𝑥, 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑝✪𝑟𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡，𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒏 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑦 𝑗𝑎𝑖𝑙, MINORS NO😡

． ．．．

“𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐳’ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝒔𝒐, 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐...“

Innocently enough you were actually supposed to be doing something on campus. Yet here you are currently with your dress rucked around your waist, tongue kissing and grinding on your Blonde Babe™️ boyfriend.

Sorrows and prayers to your responsibilities.

He’s not even supposed to be in your room. Inside a strict all girl dormitory with rules against “gentleman callers” and such. Your concern for that, however, goes out the window when you feel his big rough hands feel up your body, thumbs teasing your hard nipples through your dress and trail down, squeezing your ass. He feels so good. And he’s so pretty…god you need him to ruin you.

“Mmmh- Joe-…”, you moan softly, pulling away from the kiss to look at him. Bad idea.

His half-lidded blue eyes are nearly black, lips swollen and shiny. “Wanna stop?”, he breathes out, the husk in his already deep voice adds to the heat inside of you.

“No-!”, stopping was the LAST thing you wanted, “I just wanna be on top this time”, having to choke the words out because of him suddenlu sucking wetly all over your throat. Moaning when his broad tongue licks up your jaw before slotting his plump lips over yours, kissing you deeply. Distantly aware of the fact that you’re dripping all on him as your eyes roll back into your skull. Body hot with every pulse of your cunt.

Joe isn’t opposed to you being on top but, you’re already so fucked out just from a little kissing and humping…

“Mmm okay. S’fine with me”, and that’s your green light as his voice paired with his gaze sends you into a frenzy.

Clothes can’t come off fast enough.

He’s so effortlessly hot that it’s unfair. And honestly, that’s how you two got like this. It was all his fault really. Sexy blonde hair, the constant bedroom eyes, goddamn tall, focused, and easygoing demeanor.

Naked and ready to rock his world, you give him a quick peck insisting you don’t need prep when he asks. Which is usually necessary since he’s so big all around. Broad chest and shoulders, thick muscled arms, thighs, and massive hands. Your fingers barely touch when you wrap them around him but it’s fine. You look up but he’s already looking at you.

“Y’need me to help ya put it in?“

Fuck, shit, hell, damnit, that’s the last straw and you sink down on him.

Gasping, it burns as he stretches you out, like actually hurts, but it hurts in the best way possible. Moaning in unison, Joe grabs your waist tight, suckling wet kisses all over your chest, breathing in your sweet scent.

You smell so good that he wishes he could bend you over and eat you every day.

The pleasure that rips through you has you gasping while you roll your hips and start riding him. His cock hits every spot as it fucks into your sopping cunt over and over. Your eyes water but you keep them on anything but him because the way he looks at you is too much. It’s bad enough that you’re so soaked it’s audible. Wet smacks, heavy breathing, and your near crying as Joe slams you down on his fat cock.

Sometimes he’s gentle but when you get like this he really can’t bother to be. Such a tight, soaked, little hole, with your mischievous doe eyes and sweet smiles…teasing him. Always such a cheeky little thing but it all stopped when he got you like this.

The groan that comes out of his mouth is sinful as he feels your walls pulse erratically around him. You’re close.

Grabbing your cheeks, he makes you look at him. The cockdrunk, dazed look on your face inspires something dangerous in him and he grinds his fat tip against that special spot inside you, hissing at the gush of slick that follows.

“Fuck me, that’s it. Y’gonna make a mess huh? Yeah. I know you are…cuz she’s squeezing me so tight”, he whispers hotly against your lips, taking the rough pad of his thumb to wreak havoc against your aching clit. Looking straight into your teary blown eyes as you cry for him.

“Shhh, it’s okay…thatsss it..cum for me sweetness. Let me have it baby”. Joe’s sultry low voice with the way he strums your swollen stuffed pussy makes you orgasm so hard it hurts. Whining and screaming through the almost endless waves of white hot pleasure, you don’t even notice Joe swearing, brows furrowed, biting his lip at the ring of cream around his base. There’s a possibility the whole dorm heard you and by the end of it, you’re boneless.

By the tume you come down, it takes a minute for the change of position to click until you see Joe above you. Smiling, he leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth where you had drooled when he evicted your soul from your body, licking his lips after. (Like this man is a freak and I won’t hear otherwise)

“Wait-! Did you…?”, your hoarse question doesn’t linger in the air too long but Joe’s answer has that heat stirring up again.

“No…but don’t worry. I will, n’ this time, I’ll be on top….because I wanna watch it leak out of ya when I do. S’that okay, baby?” He swears he’s never been this hard in his life as he looks down at you dreamily. Soft, warm, and sated. Fuck.

But you? Are reeling.

Where did he learn how to talk like that?

Nodding weakly, it’s “whatever you want”. Gasping when he smacks the thick head of his tip on your clit, you spread your shaky legs wider. Ready for round 2 and that’s his cue.

Getting between your legs, folding your knees to your chest….

“So don't tap out on me just yet.”

on the frontline, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (majro lanessa "nessa" dixon) content: in an unlikely event, john meets another major during the war, but she isn't what he expects. warnings: medical inaccuracies. an: Nessa is inspired by major della raney jackson, first black major of the army nurse corps. tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste

The mess hall bustled with deep voices and the screeching of rubber soles against the dirty floor. The sun shone through the dusty windows and onto the leather-covered backs of the soldiers. An aroma of breakfast filled the atmosphere and wrapped its arms around them like a warm hug. The chefs made a large meal before missions. It was the last meal some men had to cherish. 

At a long table sat 12 men; two majors, two captains, a lieutenant, and eight sergeants. The conversations were minimal, until a sergeant spoke, “Have you met the new nurse?” He whistled he guzzled down a hefty bowl of oatmeal. He grunted after swallowing the hot oats and slurped down the black coffee beside his arm. “She’s a beauty!”

There was a discourse among the men who tried to figure out when they’d see the newly hired nurses. The wages of war came at a high price. Death and injury seemed to be a suitable payment to the creditor. To combat that, the service brought on extra hands to give medical assistance to the troops, especially with more men being enlisted to serve. Hundreds of thousands of men prepared to put their lives on the line; the least they could have was efficient medical care. 

“They all are,” another commented. “50 more nurses and half of ‘em are Black. Came in with them Tuskegee Airmen. Never seen anything like it.” 

As the pilots bantered about the new nurses, Major John Egan kept his gaze fixed on his coffee, his mind elsewhere. The arrival of more nurses was a reminder of the harsh realities of war, the constant influx of fresh faces tasked with patching up the broken bodies that returned from the front lines. Dread settled deep in his stomach at the thought of encountering them under such circumstances. With a curt nod, he urged his comrades to focus on the day ahead. Meanwhile, the chatter of the mess hall continued, blending with the clinking of utensils and the low hum of conversations.

“Haven’t seen them,” he spoke from behind the rim of his coffee. “Hoping I never have to. Let’s get going, boys.”  “Yes, sir.” 

-

“Major Egan’s hit!” For a moment, there was silence. Then, it wound up again when the wounded leader crossed the threshold into the infirmary.

The infirmary was chaotic. Loud cries and deep groans filled the air. Trays and metal utensils kissed one another as they were tossed on carts filled with supplies. White coats here and there sifted throughout the room as green bodies wheeled more patients into the large room. 

His breathing was ragged and heavy. With blurred vision caused by tears surfacing in the ducts on his eyes, it was difficult to navigate the infirmary without bumping into objects and solid bodies. His feet were heavy as he stumbled further into the infirmary. 

"I got you, Bucky," Gale's voice was frantic as he hoisted the pilot on his body. "You're gonna be alright, y'hear me?" If he had the strength, he would have replied. His heartbeat was in his ears and his stomach was in his throat. He'd never been shot before. Would this be the end of his career as a pilot? He groaned in agony. 

"I need a nurse!" Gale hollered, his husk voice reverberating off the walls. "He's been shot. Bullet is still in his shoulder."

In front of him appeared a nurse. A highly ranked nurse, at that. She was dressed differently than the others. There was no matching white skirt set with a pretty hat, no, she was dressed just like him. Dark leather jacket, heavy pants, and dark boots. On her chest was a multitude of badges and pins, including one that was similar to the one on Gale's chest. Major. Well, he'd be damned.

She didn't stay in his sight long, as she began giving orders to two other nurses, who were preparing a bed. She ushered her patient to another nurse and wrapped her black stethoscope around her neck. Around her wrist was a small hair-tie which she used to pull her curls into a makeshift bun. With a thunderous voice, she ordered, “Bessie, get him on a stretcher and bring him to me.”

A fellow nurse, Bessie assisted Gale in getting John on a stretcher. Gale stood behind the ladies, the tip of his thumb against his teeth. As the stretcher was rolled toward her station, she made a quick work of the gloves and ordered him to stay calm. “I’m gonna cut your shirt, okay? I need you to remove your hand so I can take a look. Take deep breaths for me.”

Beads of sweat trailed down John's forehead as he gritted his teeth. His nostrils flared and his jaw shook as he tried to keep his sounds to a minimum. The nurse above him chuckled, which caught his attention. "What's funny?" He managed to ask. 

She pushed his stubborn hand to the side and used her scissors to split his shirt in half. She was unfazed as blood trickled out of the open wound. It was ugly, but she knew how to make ugly beautiful. The wound was a wicked one, but it was a clean shot that managed to miss the muscle. It would be an easy retrieval. 

"No reason to play big man and conceal your pain here, Major. You got shot. The shit hurts. You can let it hurt here." She pressed her stethoscope against his chest. Heartbeat still strong, she noted. Wavering just slightly, but strong. She called for extra hands. "Administer the shot into the upper right shoulder."

John's eyes were on her as she worked. Her brown eyes were gentle and they remained on him as she poked, but her tone was stern as she said, "Major Cleven, if you'd like to stay, you must stay behind that line. Major Egan, you just received a numbing agent to reduce the sensation. The bullet is retrievable. If you feel anything unbearable,  you let me know. I'll stitch you up good as new afterword, am I clear?" 

John’s stomach twisted at her authority. His tongue scraped across the roof of his mouth as he nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"Wonderful. Scalpel, please." 

-

"How is he?" Gale's voice was unclear. He felt groggy. His head was a boulder on his shoulders and he felt confined to the small, yet comfortable bed he laid in. 

"He'll be just fine, Major. He took it like a champ. He'll be out of commission for six to twelve weeks and will be ordered to physical therapy upon return to base. Don't give me that look, now; he is not fit for battle right now, but he will be okay, I can reassure you that. My nurses and I will take good care of him just like we will everyone else."

John heard Gale's sigh of worry. "Okay, you're right. Thank you, Major..." 

She chuckled lightly. "Nessa Dixon." 

"Major Dixon. Thank you for all you've done." 

"No problem at all. You come to me tomorrow if that wrist is still giving you problems and I’ll wrap it again for you, okay? Get some rest, you'll need it." They exchanged goodbyes and the sound of Gale's footsteps retreating became clear. Finally, John's heavy eyelids peeled open. 

"Nice to see you again," she spoke after some time. She was leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into her pockets. and her stethoscope dangling from her neck. "How are you feeling?" She made her way toward him, sitting on the stool she set at the bedside. 

John groaned as he tried to readjust. His shoulder was wrapped tightly. He couldn't move even if he tried. Amelia jumped up and propped a pillow up. "Easy now..."

"Thank you," he replied gruffly. "I'm sore. Tired. And I need a damn drink." 

His response pulled a laugh from her. Not the small chuckle she'd release here and there, no, a hearty laugh. It made him smile. "You and me both. Let's get you up and moving first. Your procedure went well. You are to stay out of combat for--"

"Six to twelve weeks with physical therapy upon return to base," he repeated her words, clearly unamused. Amelia smiled, clearly amused. 

"Good to know you listen," she replied.

John hummed. "I do, Major. Didn't know that was a thing for nurses." He hated to seem painfully ignorant, but it’s what he was at that moment. Nurses in his unit rarely received titles, unless they’d done something extraordinary or had been in service for an extended period. But she, she looked young. Like she couldn’t be much older than he was.

Nessa nodded. She was one of the first Black nurses accepted into the Army Nurse Corps after they began accepting Black women. She worked her way up the chain, she explained, earning the same prestigious he carried. On the same level as a white man whose life was in her hands. Who would've guessed? 

"Nessa is just fine right now," she suggested. "I should let you rest. I'll do one more check before I head out. Major Cleven will be here in the morning, I'm sure. Do you need anything, Major?"

"John," he said gently, tired blue eyes gazing into hers. "And I'm okay. Thank you for everything." 

She gave one nod before leaving him alone and releasing the breath she wasn't aware she held.

-

“Nessa.” The woman sighed heavily and dropped her clipboard against the makeshift desk. Silence wasn’t a thing during war. Constant movement, moaning and groaning, the calling of her name. All she wanted was a moment of silence. It was nonexistent.

“Yes?” She didn’t turn around. But, she recognized the voice. Deep. Full of rasp. The way he said her name. It was familiar. Her eyes dropped to her clipboard, scattered with notes and reports that needed to be sent to the leader physicians. 

“Why are you awake? I thought you were leaving.” 

Her eyes dropped to the watch on her wrist. 1:43am. She’d been up for almost 24 hours. She shrugged and picked up her pen to scribble on the paper more. “I can ask you the same thing, Major. You’re supposed to be sleeping. Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

Finally, Nessa turned around. She regretted it. John Egan was a handsome man. She knew that, but she was too focused on ensuring he didn’t lose his arm to focus on his features. But in this moment, in the dimly lit infirmary with no one else present, she had every opportunity to do so. And, she regretted it. 

He was tall. Much taller than she was. She assumed her head would be at his shoulder, still leaving inches of distance between them. Though his face was littered with scrapes and healing scars, it seemed to illuminate his beauty. His eyes were blue, a strong contrast against his dark, curly hair. A strong nose and straight lips that she was sure felt amazing. His upper lip was cut in the corner and dried blood remained. He must’ve begun anxiously picking at it.

He managed to change his clothes. Major Cleven must have had something to do with that. He was dressed in dark sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She was curious as to how he got his arm through the sleeve, but she’d heckle him about it later in the day. His curls were damp and tousled messily. God, he was beautiful. Bruised and all. 

He chuckled and slowly sat in the chair opposite of her. He groaned softly and readjusted himself to come into a comfortable position. “I can ask you the same question.”

She shrugged, “I’ve got paperwork to do. Go to bed, John. You can’t heal if you don’t rest.” 

“You gonna tuck me in?” John’s tone was teasing. Nessa’s eyebrows raised and the pilot threw his head back as he laughed heartily. It was the first time he laughed with passion in a while, and she couldn’t help but crack a smile as well. 

“You’re in a good mood. Let’s go. You’re going to bed and I’m going to sleep in the infirmary just in case..” She pushed up from her chair and tucked her documents into a folder. She nodded toward the door and the pilot followed suit. 

They walked side by side in silence back to the infirmary, which was near the resting area for the injured who didn’t make it back to their chambers. Luckily, everyone had. Nessa’s eyebrows raised as John lay on the same bed he was on earlier. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m your just in case,” he said simply. He laid his head against the pillow and watched as she stood still. Nessa swallowed thickly. It took her brain extra effort to tell her feet to move. She sat on the edge of the bed to pull her heavy boots off her feet. She sighed in relief. 

Nessa swung her feet on the bed and allowed her body to mold into the comfortable mattress. Her eyelids felt heavy, but still, she found his gaze. “Goodnight, John.” 

“Goodnight, Nessa.” 

Though they did not say anything to one another after that, she found comfort in the silence. They found solace in the quiet of the infirmary that kept them through the rest of the night. Together.

You guys don't understand.

I would do ANYTHINGGG for this man

How does this white boy have a hold over me

Callum, this. Are you hearing me sir? MORE OF THIS.

For old times sake is actually such a heartbreaking and beautiful sentiment. Like, let’s do it for the love that used to be here. It is reason enough.

All hail the queen

🙇🏽‍♀️